Clouds, ebony-colored, coming into sight, quickly
enfolding earth so they may pour rain down upon us all.
Wind blowing ever stronger, pushing them faster with
every breath.
Gasping at the speed, complaining loudly with thunderous
voices and white lightening - striking back to no avail,
as the wind blows ever stronger.
Watching this battle being fought from a front row seat,
enjoying the spectacle immensely.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem